All for the Better
by Lady Impervius
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is the finite end of the Second Wizard War, but the world left behind is anything but peaceful. Harry and Ron have been appointed by Kingsley Shacklebolt to hunt the last of Voldemort's supporters. Ginny and Hermione have returned to Hogwarts for their last year. What love and adventures will fill the years? Romance, lots of dark and/or adult sexual scenes.
1. Ginny's Birthday

_**Author's Note: Hello, lovelies. I'm planning on this fanfiction to span 15-20 chapters, with each installment alternating between Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione romantic events. I use Jo's canon and interviews as a framework for my stories. My writing is mature and intended for audience above 17. Please enjoy and leave a review! The more reviews I get, the more motivated I will be to update and finish this tale.**_

_**Tuesday, August 11th, 1998**_

The Battle of Hogwarts, which is what the Wizarding World would later refer to as the definitive end to the Second Wizarding War, had taken the lives of hundreds on both sides of the field. The Dark Wizards, who had numbered fewer than the Good Wizards, had lost most of their force to the Battle of Hogwarts and later skirmishes. As the hot summer of 1998 started to come to a close, Harry Potter felt a sense of relief and peace he could not remember feeling in his entire life. Sure, he had probably felt so before Voldemort had killed his parents. But he had only been a little more than a year old at the time, and the only things he recalled from this time in his life were those bright flashes of green light and the high-pitched laughter intermingled with his mother's desperate pleas to take her life instead of her son's.

Harry took a sip of the earl grey tea Ginny had made him thoughtfully. He knew that Voldemort and every fragment of his soul were no longer on this earth. The repulsive creature he had seen in his King's Cross version of limbo had surely gone "on", and the absence of the scar twinges and visions from Harry was proof the dark wizard had at last parted the mortal world forever. His appetite was meager but he had been sleeping fairly well given the circumstances.

Yet it was difficult for him to enjoy the wake of the war. He had been to eleven funerals in the past two months. Fred Weasley's had been immediately after the Battle, but other families had saved their burials to perhaps space out the grief felt by the wizarding community. Harry, for one, was grateful for this. He wasn't sure how much more guilt he could take after Lupin and Tonks' quiet funeral last Friday. Andromeda Tonks had been so cordial to him despite the fact that grief had obviously claimed her entire body. She looked even more like Bellatrix than ever with sunken eyes and her brown hair unkempt and graying. She would be raising Teddy Tonks, as if there had ever been any question about it. She stated sorrowfully that her house would be empty with Ted and Nymphadora dead, so the baby boy would bring light to her dark world. Hermione, who was still recovering from her Cruciatus torture at the hands of Bellatrix, avoided Andromeda at all costs and stayed glued to Ron.

Ron had taken a somber disposition in the midst of all the sadness and repair. Although Fred had always taunted Ron and been a source of ridicule and some downright dreadful memories, he was his brother after all and his loss could therefore never be fully filled. Ron let his hair grow out and was sporting a wispy beard on his chin not unlike the one Viktor had donned at Bill and Fleur's wedding. He had spent most of his summer with his large family, especially his mother, whom he comforted when she burst into tears as she so often did nowadays. Molly Weasley now looked like she had never been overweight at all. Her pleasantly plump flesh was now hanging loosely on her short frame. She appeared to have aged ten years in the space of the past few months after Fred's death. Arthur Weasley's kind face hardly smiled anymore, and his shocking red hair was turning white at the temples. Harry's heart ached with remorse every time he saw them, but the old couple never wavered in their gratitude for his hand in ending the war. As Molly put it, "Fred would have wanted us to get on with our lives and make the most of it. Even George is talking about reopening the joke shop, so why can't the rest of us move on?"

Although Molly and Arthur offered for Harry to stay at the Burrow as long as he needed to, he was staying at Grimmauld Place for the time being. Seeing as most of the Secret Keepers and the Death Eaters that knew its whereabouts were dead, the location was secure, albeit a constant reminder of Sirius Black and the other Order members who had perished in order to keep Harry alive. He needed an escape from all the business that had cluttered his daily life, so the empty property he had inherited suited him perfectly. Kreacher continued to serve Harry dutifully, the fake locket still gleaming from his scrawny chest as he bustled about Grimmauld Place, cooking and cleaning ardently. There hardly went a day that the young wizard was alone, however. The summer had been punctuated by visits from several important figures in Harry's life – Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and his grandmother, Augusta, and each of the Weasleys, including an emaciated but coping George. At least three days a week Ron and Hermione visited Harry, always together, but not quite letting on they were a couple. Ginny spent at least five days a week with Harry. When combined with the weekly visit to the Burrow, he was seeing her almost every day. And he wasn't complaining.

It was as if he had never referred to her as an ex-girlfriend. In his mind, their breakup had merely been a brief pause in what would inevitably be a lifelong affair. Harry had never loved a person, let alone a woman, as much as Ginevra Molly Weasley.

On the first day of August, there had been far too many people for the confines of the Burrow as everyone Harry knew crammed into the home to celebrate the hero's date of birth. Molly Weasley decided that they would celebrate Ginny and Harry's birthday on the same day. She had made a vast, multi-layered cake with miniature broomsticks flying about it, donning green icing that spelled, _Happy Birthday, Ginny and Harry! _Harry mostly received clothing and a few books about traveling abroad from Hermione, but also got a new grey owl with large, yellow eyes whom he had named (what Ginny had strongly suggested) Atticus.

Tonight, sitting at the freshly-scrubbed wooden table in the dim firelight of the basement stone room, Harry had invited Ginny over to his dark abode so he could wish her a proper happy birthday. She was seventeen today, and was now legally a witch of adult age in the Wizarding World. This birthday was important for various reasons. Her Underage Trace would be removed and she would be able to do magic outside of Hogwarts, where she would be returning to in precisely three weeks' time. She could now test and get her Apparating license, which would put her in the records at the Ministry of Magic, establishing her as an independent citizen. Her first banking account at Gringott's Wizarding Bank had been opened last week, which Harry discreetly deposited 50 Galleons into without her noticing. Most important to Harry about her seventeenth birthday, however, was the fact that she was an adult who could make decisions for herself. Decisions about her career, where she would live, about her body…

Harry sipped the strong tea. It had had a chance to steep and cool quite a bit while he had been thinking and was soothing and warm on his sore throat. He had been talking all day long to Ron, Hermione, and Kingsley Shacklebolt about what the next few years would bring. He loved that he could now think about his future and the endless possibilities – the last few years he had always had the mindset that he would be deader than a doornail before his eighteenth birthday.

"So let me get this straight - Shacklebolt wants both you and Ron to join him in rounding up the last of the Death Eaters and not to return to Hogwarts?" Ginny inquired of Harry, brushing a piece of her long, fiery red hair behind her left ear. "And for how long is this supposed to be happening, exactly?"

Harry, who had not expected the slightest bit of resistance from Ginny, said, "I don't know how long. Yes, Ron and Neville Longbottom are coming too. He reckons that we have all seen enough of the Death Eaters to be able to identify them, and said that we all showed we have mastered enough magical knowledge because we kind of survived a full-out war and defeated Voldemort." He had tried to lighten the mood with the last part of this, but given Ginny's very Mollyish look of concern, it had failed and fell flat in the stale air.

Ginny sat down opposite of Harry at the table, her expression melting into an unreadable blank stare. She was wearing a hunter green tank top with lacy sleeves he couldn't remember seeing her wear before with ornate, pearly buttons down the front. He focused on each one of them, counting six that looked so easy to unclasp…

It was hard to believe that at the beginning of this year, he had been obsessively watching her dot on the Marauder's Map whenever he had the chance during his adventures. He specifically remembered when he, Ron, and Hermione had visited Xenophilius Lovegood's odd cylindrical house. He had looked out the curved window longingly, trying to catch a glimpse or any sign of Ginny or the Burrow over the hills of St. Ottery Catchpole. In this summer moment he had her, but they would be saying goodbye again in too soon of time. He had to shake this from his thoughts, though. He was supposed to be doing what was best for her and he had to be firm about them separating the next nine months.

He gave her a few more minutes to sulk before saying, "We'll only be separated for a year. Less than that, even. I'll see you at Christmas, Easter, and whenever I can between that. Hermione and Luna are both going back to Hogwarts so you'll have them. And I'll be fine, I really will. It sounds like Kingsley has really strong leads," he added earnestly. One of the reasons he loved Ginny was that she was less prone to being a worrywart like Hermione. He knew she would not force him to do anything he didn't want, she had learned long ago that Harry was just as stubborn as she was. The redhead considered him, meeting his green eyes with her chocolate brown ones. They warmed as her face broke out in a reluctant sort of smile.

"I suppose I can survive a year without you," she sighed. "But you need to owl me as much as you can, update me on all the action. Merlin knows I'll need it with the N.E.W.T.s and all."

"You're going to be in seventh year?" Harry asked, setting down his mug with a heavy _clink._ He had assumed she would want to redo her sixth year, when she had been forced into hiding at her Aunt Muriel's after Easter holiday. Several of her professors, such as the Carrows, had been known Death Eaters, wreaking terror and exposing Dark Magic to the youth and although Severus Snape was protecting the students as Headmaster, he had not been a pleasant one. Surely she would want to retake those vital classes and wait before having to take her most important exams? Ginny seemed to have read his mind with her answer.

"I learned enough, and I don't really care about the N.E.W.T.s either because I already have been talking to Gwenog Jones about joining the Holyhead Harpies after I graduate," Ginny said with a half shrug. "Plus Hermione has offered to tutor all the students who went last year and didn't learn much. She said something about holding study sessions a couple weeks before term and then a couple of weeknights during the school year. She already has lesson plans and study schedules drawn up."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry laughed. It echoed in the large room strangely, as though this dank dungeon-like kitchen had never contained such a sound. The silence that replaced it became overbearing to Harry, who had been waiting anxiously all day to see his girlfriend. So she had already been offered a position on the Holyhead Harpies? He felt a mixture of jealousy and pride as he gazed at her. This explained her recent change in appearance though. She had always been slender, but now she was tight and muscular. Knowing her fierce determination to achieve what she wanted, Harry imagined she had been flying every spare minute she had gotten this summer.

"So… happy birthday," he said cheerfully, grabbing her hand from across the table. He felt her hand stiffen under his. It was so small and warm, with freckles cascading up the top of it and up to her arms, even extending to her to her muscled shoulder. _Where else do you have freckles?_ Harry wondered. Ginny caught him eyeballing her and snickered, "Whatcha looking at?"

Harry blushed slightly, but did not tear his eyes away immediately. They both knew why they were here. The stolen moments at the Burrow and between funerals just wasn't cutting it for either of them. He looked to her bemused expression in the dancing firelight and said, "Ginny, do you remember last year on my birthday? When we were in your room and you said you didn't know what to get me?"

"And then Ron barged in," Ginny supplied. "How could I forget?"

"Well," said Harry tentatively. He did not know how to express what he wanted so dearly. "Am I still going to get it?"

"It?" parroted Ginny in mock indignation. "Today is _my_ birthday, Harry. I already had to share a party with you a couple weeks ago, don't you think you at least need to be the one giving me the stuff today?"

"Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone," Harry said in what he hoped was a steady voice. "You know - if what your present was fits in with what mine is, all for the better."

This caused a familiar spark in Ginny's eyes, a gleam he knew she used when she was planning something mischievous. She sprang to her feet, her hand sliding out from under Harry's suddenly clammy one. Harry followed suit, nearly knocking over the empty mug as he rose to his feet. She was giving him that hard, blazing look she had given him before they had kissed after she had won the Quidditch Cup in her fifth year. His eyes hungrily lowered to the top button of her shirt. Those blasted six buttons that he had to undo to get to what the monster in his chest so greedily desired…

Suddenly, the top ornate button flew off, striking the edge of a stone counter and coming to the ground with a tremendous clatter for its size. Ginny let out an involuntary gasp at this accidental magic, which caused the second button to pop off and whirr across and off the long table. With the top two buttons undone, Harry could see the swell of her pale, freckled flesh…

"Harry!" she exclaimed, sounding both alarmed and encouraged. She climbed on top of the table gracefully and crawled towards him in a fluid, catlike way. He could see down her green blouse. Her bra was pale pink and had a floral pattern, and there was a small pink bow where the two cups met in the middle. Harry could start to feel his pants becoming uncomfortably tight in the front, and fleetingly tried to remember what underpants he had chosen that day. With relief, he realized it had been a pair of plain black ones that he certainly had sniffed to determine cleanliness.

He seized her face in his hands. Her head was directly at his height as she knelt in front of him, sucking at his bottom lip affectionately and feeling the slight scratch of his stubble against her chin. Her touch was wonderful to feel even though he was getting quite a lot of it nowadays. He loved the flowery scent of her hair, the slightly musty yet deliciously familiar smell of her skin and scalp. She bit his top lip, perhaps a little too hard, causing him to yelp then moan in pleasure. His erection was now fighting to be released, pressing against the bottom of the table he was standing against.

Suddenly, Ginny parted from Harry to reposition herself so she was sitting on the edge of the ancient table. She kicked each leg out so she was straddling his hips, her athletic bottom barely touching the rounded and worn edge. She threw her arms over his shoulders to support herself as she turned her head to kiss him fully on the mouth. Her breath had hints of what tasted like mead, or was that just Harry tasting the leftover Ogden's Old Firewhisky he had downed himself just a few minutes before she had ambled through the fireplace? All he knew was that it was growing damn near impossible for him to hide his erection with her pelvis crushed against the front of his hips, so he let the impressive swell of his member crush against her thigh through the cotton fabric of his trousers. She acknowledged his arousal by purring and shoving her tongue against his dancing one.

"Is anyone coming?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"No," Harry said hurriedly. "I sent Kreacher to Hogwarts to help the staff with the last of the cleanup. Ron and Hermione said they have plans tonight, and I can't think of anyone else who would stop by."

"Good," Ginny smirked as her hand plunged behind his belt and into his pants. He hissed as she dug down to find his throbbing erection. Her hand was caressing his cock through the thin fabric of his knickers, tracing the circumcised head and then kneading his aching, full balls. He let out a pained moan as a strange, tingling sensation shot up his legs and to his anus, which flexed, pleased.

"Please," he managed, and Ginny obliged instantly. She expertly slid her hand in the slit in front of the soft black fabric. This was the first time she had ever touched him down _there_. The feeling of his bare cock on the slightly callused flesh of her hand was enough to drive Harry insane. Her thumb circled the head of his cock, using the small amount of pre-ejaculation as lubricant. The swirling motion made his cock stand straight out, harder than Goblin-galvanized metal. Harry shuddered as he clumsily undid two more of those cursed pearly buttons on her front. She took her hand out of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping whilst his shaking hands freed the final two buttons. He interrupted her from going further with her handjob when he pulled down the straps of her tank top and bra. He scooped out her breasts from their flowery cages, first her left, then her right one. He had never seen them before, though he had touched them a bit in a dark and abandoned corridor of Hogwarts and in the broom shed at the Burrow. The color of her areolae was a pleasant peach hue, her nipples small and taut points on her freckled breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he blurted, looking her in the eyes. He did not know what expression he expected to see on her face, but it was not the sad one her usually content one bore. Was she having second thoughts? "What's up?"

"I've been waiting for this moment for so long," she said apologetically, her voice suddenly small and feeble. He could see the eleven-year-old he had once known in the look she was giving him and was reminded suddenly of the blushing girl who could not even speak in front of him for years. He remembered the mushy but sweet Valentine she had written for him in his second year, the obvious signs she wanted to attend the Yule Ball with him in his fourth year, the fierce dedication she had given Dumbledore's Army in the past few years. He had been so stupid to give the time of day the girl in front of him. He had not noticed her until it was almost too late.

Thankfully there were no tears in her eyes as she continued to look down at her lap. Another reason Harry loved Ginny was she was never one to cry, even though he knew she must be feeling emotional with all that was going on inside her. "I just don't want it to be… I don't know, disappointing…"

"I've never done it either," Harry said, feeling slightly defensive that she was worried his might not stack up to her expectations. "Cho and I only ever snogged. You're the only one I want Ginny. I was so thick to not realize it sooner."

This seemed to boost her spirits slightly. She paused before saying, "Do I taste firewhisky?"

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his untidy hair. He looked up at her brazenly, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. "Yeah, I had a bit before you came. But I'm pretty sure I taste something on your breath too."

"Just some birthday wine!" Ginny shot back, but she was grinning widely. That grin reminded him so much of Fred and George. "I'd like some of what you had though, if you don't mind."

With his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped, but his erection returned to its normal state, Harry stepped back from her. She shrugged her breasts back into her bra and watched his back as he walked over to a wooden cupboard and procured the bottle of firewhisky and two ornate glasses. He could have conjured them with a spell, but he wanted to give Ginny a moment to make sure she wanted to follow through on becoming a full-fledged witch tonight. He certainly hoped she would let him help her with that.

He poured a generous portion of the bottle between the two glasses. He downed his in one gulp, feeling the burning sensation hit his throat, lungs, and then stomach. He was reminded of the night Mad-Eye Moody had died and the Order had shared the tasty beverage in honor of his sacrifice. Harry gripped Ginny's glass and turned around to bring it to her and perhaps relay this memory…

She was still sitting on the edge of the table, but was suddenly stark naked. Harry nearly dropped the glass as his dick gave a sudden twitch as though abruptly awakened from a nap.

"Give it," she commanded, reaching for the alcohol. She drained the glass even more quickly than Harry had. She wiped away a loose drop that was sliding down her neck with the back of her arm – even this brute act looked graceful when done by her. Harry quickly licked the trail on her neck left by the cinnamon-flavored spirit. His cold fingers caressed her exposed nipples, impatiently wanting to be naked with her.

"More," she commanded, slamming her glass down on the table. Harry obediently fetched the firewhisky and poured each of them another full glass. This one was more difficult to take; each of them coughed heavily as they drained the amber liquid urgently.

"Now you're mine," Harry growled, emboldened by the liquor. He could not wait a second longer. He lowered his trousers and undergarments all at once, the belt buckle clanging noisily on the way to the floor. His erection bobbed in the air, pointing directly at the small patch of ginger hair that hid Ginny's dripping folds. Her legs were clenched together, her eyebrows raised in a daring fashion.

"Is that so?"

Harry seized her thighs, wrenching them apart. It was challenging, as she was fighting against him with all her might, her leg muscles popping out with the effort as she thrashed beneath him. She was giggling playfully, a sound that was childlike but awoke a creature in the depths of Harry's chest. Oh, so she was going to play hard to get? Well he could play hard.

Impulsively he thrust himself into her, causing her to gasp as though shot with a powerful jinx. He could not tell if it was from pain or pleasure or both, so he withdrew slowly, a wet popping noise accompanying his departure.

"Don't leave," she urged, grasping his buttocks and squeezing them as she pulled him back into her.

She felt impossibly hot inside, and moist and slick and smooth and just so wonderful. He had never felt anything like it in all his experiences of sensations in the colorful wizarding world. Her small breasts were bobbing upwards towards her uplifted chin with every thrust of his hips. As he looked down into her face, a surging feeling of intense intimacy stole him. He wildly realized he was on the verge of tears as he stared at her. He had no words to express what she meant to him, and worried what his voice might sound like if he did, so he tried to show her how much he loved her with each movement that somehow came to him with ease, as though he were born to be fucking this ravishing seventeen-year-old on this hot August night.

Ginny was letting out loud, repetitive moans that were almost rehearsed they were so melodious and necessary to hear. They were primal and comforting, egging Harry on as he deliberately yet carefully plunged in and out, in and out of her clenched pussy. He was still wearing his trainers and shirt, but he didn't care – he had taken Ginny Weasley's virginity, and damn did it feel good. The height of the table suited them perfectly, Harry was slightly lower than her so as he worked himself into her, it was at an upwards angle that squeezed him against the wall of her chamber. The only sounds apart from their firewhisky-fueled groans were the crackling of the fire and the creaking of the old house.

Ginny had achieved her first orgasm when she was thirteen years old, during Easter holiday in her third year at Hogwarts. The buzzing, relieving feeling that had washed over her was simple, but she recognized instantly what it had been. She had even expelled a little bit of liquid on her bed sheets as it happened. The adult Ginny wrapped her legs around Harry's waist as she felt the familiar torturous feeling of wanting a resolution to this maddening lovemaking consume her. She hastily lifted his shirt over his head so she could appreciate the full picture of his body slamming into her, taking so much care to make every move count. She propped herself on her elbows and watched him move. His body was as thin as ever, his hip bones poking out and his stomach almost concave. He had fairly sparse black hair on his chest and there was a thin trail reaching from his navel down to the patch of dark hair above his glistening cock. There were scars from his various run-ins over the years that littered his flesh. She did not find them ugly – actually, they were bloody sexy.

"I'm going to come," she cried as the climax hit her first in her undulating womb, and then rippled like a tidal wave to the ends of her fingers and tips of her toes. She gasped as the best orgasm she had ever had came to a too-soon end. She could hear her heavy breathing as though she were an outsider looking in on this explosion then collapsed against Harry's sweaty chest. She could feel his breath was labored and looked down at his dripping, twitching cock.

"Come on, love," she beckoned, grasping his hips and pulling him forward. But he was looking at her with the most peculiar expression. It wasn't sadness, but it was close. Was it regret? Nervousness? Or maybe just hesitation?

"Harry?" she asked weakly, wanting him to get on with it so they could go to bed. She was tired in the afterglow of her release and simply wished to be in his arms.

He broke her gaze and stared at the floor as he said, "Look, I'm not really ready to be someone's fathe – "

"Of course not, don't be daft!" she interrupted impatiently before he could blunder on. "Just pull out or whatever, come on!"

He reciprocated with such gusto she let out a shriek as he thrust into her, hammering her with such intensity that she considered telling him to perhaps let up a bit, but then –

"Oh!" he grunted as he hastily grabbed his length and pulled it out. He shot hot, sticky cum all over her thighs and belly. The evidence of his release all over her pale flesh was an image that he knew he would revisit during his next solo session. When he had emptied what seemed to be the entire contents of his testicles, he placed one hand flat on the table on either side of Ginny's hips, bumping his drenched forehead against hers. His glasses were blurry with all the moisture sticking to them. Minutes, Harry lost track of how many, passed by in bated silence. He could feel radiant, sensitive warmth on his skin, as though his orgasm had left a charm on every inch of his flesh. Eventually Harry grabbed his wand out of the pocket of his trousers on the floor and with a quick wave cleaned the mess off of Ginny. She was silent and staring at him, her eyes sparkling. He could hardly glance at her face because he was afraid of how he would react if he looked too long at the witch whom he loved. The fire was still crackling in the soot-blackened fireplace when Harry grabbed her hand and led her up the stairs.

The room he had been occupying was on the second floor. Kreacher and Hermione had both helped him clean it and make it fit to live in; he had purchased fresh sheets that were the scarlet and gold colors of Gryffindor, and had hung several photos of his most beloved friends and family on the wall. The massive four-poster bed had silky scarlet drawings that were open and inviting to the young lovers. Yet even with these decorations, the room still had a dark and feeling of lost grandeur that also plagued the rest of the rooms.

Harry pulled back the sheets and let Ginny slide in bed, then got in next to her. He spooned her, smelling her sweet hair. She sighed and scooted her bum closer to him so that they almost seemed to be one exhausted, sweaty figure. For what had just happened, Harry found his mind to be surprisingly blank and placid. All that mattered was this woman in his arms and that they were forever bound by this night.

"Happy birthday, Ginny," Harry murmured in her ear. But she was already asleep.


	2. Dinner with Hermione

_**Friday, August 21**__**st**__**, 1998**_

Hermione Granger closed the thick copy of _Cosmic Witch_ that she had been perusing for the past hour. It wasn't her usual type of reading material, but she found that _Witch Weekly_ was not supplying her with any useful information for her current predicament, nor were the one hundred and twelve books on her billowing bookcase. _Cosmic Witch_, unlike _Witch Weekly_, was aimed towards an older, post-Hogwarts age group of witches and the articles ranged from interesting economic developments to biographies on successful business witches and beaming, well-groomed witch politicians. Every issue also dedicated a section to romance and how to entrance wizards, which had been the exact pages Hermione immediately flipped to when the tawny owl delivered her monthly subscription.

Hermione's heart was still pounding after studying the rather explicit sexual scenes described in a section titled: "_Bewitch Him in the Bedroom: 17 foolproof moves that will leave him as good as Confunded!" _The article was accompanied by animated depictions of the positions with a busty witch and her rather enthusiastic partner, a blonde wizard with rippling abs and a hairless chest_. _Half of the positions seemed impossible given the height different between her and Ron, and she had no earthly idea how large or long his penis was. Yet Hermione found she was inspired and awed by at least three of the moves; one actually included wandwork from the participating witch. She was itching to try them on Ronald Weasley, and was grateful she was alone in her parent's modest but affluent suburban home as she felt a tingling, irresistible-to-not-touch sensation between her thighs.

Last month's issue of the racy magazine was curled on Hermione's polished granite bathroom counter, open to the instructions she had painstakingly followed on the page entitled "_Magically trim your lady regions pain-free!_" There was an advert for Madame Starlight's strongest Swelling Solution strategically placed at the bottom of the glossy page. She had cautiously trimmed her pubic hair out of curiosity, if anything. It wasn't like she expected anyone but herself to witness the clean triangle of dark brown hair down there anytime soon.

For Ron was not his usual self lately. The Battle of Hogwarts had ended over three months ago, but the misery and anger he had felt after Fred's death kept an ironclad grip on him. It seemed to have hit him harder than most of his siblings, which surprised Hermione, as she knew he was often the victim of the twins' constant ridicule and bullying. He was irritable, moody, and although they were together nearly every day, he did not speak much to Hermione. Because of his mournful depression, she had not addressed the kiss they had shared at Hogwarts on May second of that year. She did not want to risk losing her chance of being with the boy she had secretly yearned for years, so their days were spent with him sulking and her studying, mostly at the Burrow but sometimes at her parent's house. She knew if she didn't visit him and give him a reason to get up out of bed in the morning, he would have spent his summer alone in his cramped room at the Burrow, brooding in solitude and fury.

Hermione had her battle scars too, both apparent and invisible. She had her usual coping mechanism of reading and was drawing up a rigorous study schedule for the students who had fallen behind in their schooling at Hogwarts last year. Hermione was determined to help the professors with getting all the students caught up. It was nice to have something to do. With all the close brushes with death over the past year, she was almost numb to all the memories that might have otherwise cursed her with sadness. What disturbed her above all atrocities suffered at the Battle of Hogwarts, Gringotts, and Godric's Hollow was the torture she had endured at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange that spring. Late at night she was forced to revisit the scene in that hazy stage between wakefulness and restless sleep.

'_You are a lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!' _Hermione could hear Bellatrix's angry, accusatory shriek as though she were standing in the room. _'Where did you find my sword? Who gave it to you?' _

Hermione, refusing to answer, had been hit repeatedly by the Cruciatus Curse. She lost count after the fourth time, when the spell had shattered her left arm and the bones poked bloodily out of her pale flesh. Her blood splattered the floor around her, drops of sweat joining the scarlet puddles as curse after curse hit her. With added cruelty, Bellatrix had slashed her robes, revealing her undergarments and skin in private places. Fenrir Greyback had licked his lips, revealing his pointed teeth. His longing groans for her were hungry and sexual in their perversity. Even through the jeering of Death Eaters and the shattering sounds of her own pleading screams she could still hear Ron bellowing her name at the top of his lungs. His voice had never sounded so scared, so desperate. It sounded like someone was sawing off his legs with a dull razor judging from the anguished yells that were escaping the cellar prison. They were enough to fill her with terror because there was nothing he could do for her. She had wanted to die; the thought of ceasing to exist was something comfortable and welcoming to her. Then Ron wouldn't have to worry about her being in pain, would not have to marry a filthy Mudblood, and she would not reveal to Bellatrix where they had gotten the ruby-encrusted sword of Godric Gryffindor or about their secret quest for Horcruxes. As she slipped between varying states of unconsciousness and consciousness, what she thought were her last seconds on earth were spent thinking about her beloved Ron and Harry, hoping they would carry on and do what they had been working so hard towards. She was just one small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things. But thanks to some quick thinking on her part, a lie from Griphook, and the rescue efforts of Dobby, they had all survived the ordeal battered, but relatively unscathed.

The residual trauma from the debacle at Malfoy Manor flared up at the most unexpected of times. For instance, because Andromeda Tonks looked so strikingly similar to her deceased sister, Hermione could not even look at the witch when they crossed paths at Lupin and Tonks' funeral. She had grabbed Ron's sleeve, and he, sensing her dread and urgent need for protection, wrapped his arm around her for the remainder of the service. His shoulder was a solid resting spot for her troubled mind. It was the closest to romantic contact they had shared in the months after the Battle. She had melted into his side, catching a whiff of the familiar scent of his shampoo and knowing that as long as she was in his strong arms, she was safe.

The white marble fireplace of the Grangers' living room suddenly flashed bright green and expelled a lanky, long-haired redhead. Ron Weasley shook soot out of his hair and coughed out a mouthful of ashes. Hermione knew he hadn't Apparated because he hated the pressing, uncomfortable feeling of it and was not entirely proficient at performing the means of travel. His bright red hair was past his chin and suited his long face and nose quite well. He looked like a younger, less scarred version of his eldest brother, Bill. The wispy strands of ginger hair on his chin, however, made Hermione feel a mixture of disgust and curiosity: how would it feel on her lips? And if they got to that point, her freshly trimmed "lady region"?

"Sorry," he mumbled, waving his wand to clean up the blackened carpet. "Didn't say the address quick enough, I think."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione replied fervently, pulling out her newly recovered vine wood and dragon heartstring-cored wand and sucking away the debris from his black robes. "Why are you in your robes?"

"Just got done talking to Shacklebolt and Harry at the Ministry," Ron yawned, walking past her to the plum purple couch. "Where's your mum and dad?"

"They went to Germany for a week or so, they weren't sure for how long. It was a last minute sort of decision, but they've wanted to enjoy time to themselves lately." Hermione looked down at the wooden floor stiffly. She had found them at the end of June, when she was sure things had calmed down enough, and removed the Memory Charms she had placed on them. Sadly, they had not regained everything she had wiped clean from them. Sometimes they even forgot her name. A dark voice in the back of her constantly-working brain told her this was because they had enjoyed their child-free life in Australia, and their minds were repelling her memory. Shaking this thought, she said in what she hoped was a cheerful voice, "But they'll be back a couple days before I leave for Hogwarts, so I'll get to spend time with them."

"Don't remind me," Ron muttered grumpily, peeling off his boots. "I can't believe school is starting in a little more than a week." The act of him taking off his shoes signaled to Hermione that he was staying for a spell, which pleased her tremendously.

"Want to stay for dinner? I was thinking of making some chicken cordon bleu," Hermione asked him tenderly. With the ash cleaned from his face, she noticed that his freckled skin was slightly blotchy, but he was not looking at her. Most of the soot was gone from his robes, which were new but had been worn quite a bit over the summer between all the Ministry visits and funerals. There were a few threads hanging loosely at the bottom hem, a symbol for the tall, fraying man whom they clothed.

"That sounds incredible, Hermione," he said, finally making eye contact with her. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen as if he had been upset. She did her best to ignore this and turned towards the kitchen, knowing that if she pursued it he would shut down emotionally. Ron did not cry often, so this must have been a big deal. She decided firmly that they would only talk about it if he was the one who brought it up.

Using some nifty new charms she had acquired from the June edition of _Cosmic Witch_, Hermione fixed the chicken with a spring salad and fluffy rolls in less than ten minutes. Ron knew his way around the kitchen and the rest of the home rather well; they had spent countless hours together here and he often helped himself to bits of food from the refrigerator (or, as Ron referred to it, the "Box of Coldness"). Mr. and Mrs. Granger did not remember him at all, so Hermione took the opportunity to introduce him with the air that he was a romantic interest. Luckily they found him quite amusing, with his obscure references to the magical world and odd clothing. He had been gallantly patient and friendly with them despite the somber demeanor he had assumed after the Battle. Hermione knew with a flutter of her heart that her parents would approve of him if the day ever came that he asked for their permission for her hand in marriage.

Ron found all the necessary supplies quickly and set places for two at the small, circular table. He sat as she lowered the steaming food on the table with her wand. His stomach let out a loud groan as he eyeballed the chicken greedily. There was something primal and satisfying for Hermione about preparing a meal that he would consume and gain strength from. His muscular, Quidditch player frame had succumbed to his fidgety eating habits and he was far too thin for her liking. She poured each of them a glass of wine from her parents' well-stocked liquor cabinet as he started to shovel food into his wide mouth. She found that alcohol in any form tended to lift Ron's spirits, which he was in dire need of tonight. And predictably, after his fourth glass and when she was opening the second bottle, he seemed to be a great deal more cheerful. He had told Hermione her cooking was almost as good as his mum's, which was as valuable as solid gold, coming from him. He was informing her about his meeting at the Ministry in between forkfuls of moist chicken and handfuls of warm bread.

"Kinglsey has three cases that he thinks can be closed in less than a year," he said happily through a mouthful of salad, his cheeks slightly rosy. "With some help from the Aurors, I think Harry, Neville and I can catch them. He wants to keep hushed up about it though, so I can't tell you who we're after or where we'll be going."

He let out a loud hiccup, then refilled and gulped down his sixth glass of wine. There was a tiny purple mustache stained above his top lip.

"I think you've had enough," Hermione said sternly, but she was glad to see his mood improving dramatically. He grinned back at her as he slammed down the cup abruptly. He was definitely feeling the effects of the wine, judging by his glazed eyes and lopsided smile.

"You know, you look really good with your hair pulled back like that," he slurred.

Hermione reacted instinctively by grabbing her long plait. He hadn't complimented or even acknowledged her physical appearance since they had gone to Colin Creevey's Muggle-style funeral and he had told her shortly that she looked "well-rested".

"I haven't washed it yet today, honestly," she said dismissively, but the pink blush that erupted over her face betrayed her pleasure. "I've been working on which Defense against the Dark Arts topics are the most important to cover, and I've been highlighting Professor Binns' History of Magic notes for key points, because there just simply won't be enough time to cover all the gritty details of the goblin wars during the eighteenth century."

Ron was looking at her full in the face, his own flushed with determination. He hadn't been listening to a word she was saying and there was something fighting to come out of his slightly freckled lips.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Hermione," he said quietly.

"About what?" she asked, her heart missing a beat and settling somewhere in the base her throat. They were still sitting side by side at the oak table, the distance weighing on her like the waves crashing on the shore near Shell Cottage. The sun had started to set and there was a bright, pinkish gold light washing through the bay window. Was this finally happening? Right _now_?

"Us," Ron said, his voice wavering as he continued. "Hermione, I've almost lost you too many times. You almost died… I'm sick of wasting time. I'm bloody sick of it." The last part of this came out angry. "Let's just get on with it already, what are we doing?"

"So you want to – to go steady?" Hermione asked, her voice uncharacteristically high and shaking. She had to be certain he meant what she hoped he did. She felt like she was a little girl on the playground nervously asking her crush out for a play date.

"I reckon, yeah." But there was unmistakable hesitation in his answer. She guessed the source of it before he had a chance to elaborate.

"If it doesn't work out, we'll still be friends," she stated. "You have been my best friend for almost eight years, please don't think a little fling will ruin that." She grabbed his large, scarred hands in her smaller ones, squeezing them with her reassurance.

"A _fling_?" Ron repeated, spit flying out on the 'f' as his eyebrows shot above his hairline. "I was hoping for a little more than a fling with you, Hermione."

She laughed, waving her hand dismissively as though casting aside his doubt from the air.

"I only mean that we don't need to hold back because you're worried what it will do to our relationship. I love you, Ron. Whether that's as friends or something more, I always will. You oughtn't worry about that."

His lips were crushed against hers almost before she had finished the sentence, cutting off the flow of babble she had going on in her head. The kiss was fierce, sloppy, but full of feeling. His lips were smooth and wet and his breath tasted like the chicken she had prepared for dinner mixed with the sharp, fruity tones of merlot wine. Apparently being connected by the lips to Lavender had done him well, Hermione found herself breathless as he explored her mouth with his tongue, sucking and biting her lips tenderly and placing his hands on her face. She felt like an amateur; the only practice she had was a few emotionless smooches with Viktor Krum and the blundering advances of Cormac McLaggen. Hermione noted that the hair on Ron's chin tickled her face a bit, but it did not feel unpleasant at all. It was surprisingly soft for how scruffy it appeared. She dreamily pulled him to the couch so they didn't have a table separating them and clutched at the front of his robes as she kissed him back eagerly.

He kissed her neck and then softly planted one on the thin, red line that Bellatrix's knife had made months before. Hermione froze. She was sensitive about that spot; no amount of Essence of Dittany had faded it and so it always stood out, almost grinning, against her pale flesh. The silver dagger must have been laced with some sort of poison, perhaps snake venom or werewolf saliva.

Ron moved away from the tender spot and started to bite at the point where her neck met her shoulder, which rapidly chased the memory of the scar from her mind. She writhed under him – it felt so good, _too_ good really, so why was her body involuntarily fighting against him? He laughed loudly, pinning her down with most of his weight. "You like that?" He fiercely dove down at her neck to bite more, eliciting a half-giggle, half-shriek from Hermione.

After a full twenty minutes of making out, which ended up with Hermione on top of him, Ron abruptly gasped, "We need to slow down!"

Hermione was pressing the crotch seam of her high-waisted jeans into his hardened member beneath his black robes when he had emerged from their feverish grinding. She repositioned her knees on either side of him so that there were a few inches of hot, humid air separating their pelvises. She wiped away the drool that dribbled from her puckered lips and nodded her head vigorously, her eyes wide.

Ron sat up, forcing Hermione to sit back on the opposite side of the couch. She gazed across at him, bushy sections of hair sticking out of her braid as if she had been riding a bucking broomstick. The sexual feelings that had stirred in her earlier had reawakened, but he was cutting it off before they had a chance to get to that point. She felt disappointed and downright malicious.

"You know, Ginny and Harry did it," she blurted without thinking. She shouldn't have said this, but it was too late; the damage was done.

"They – they what?" Ron blustered, rising to his feet in front of her, his fists clenched. "He's already got his dirty hands on her?"

"Already?" Hermione laughed derisively. "Ron, he almost died three months ago. They've been in love for only God knows how long! They're both adults and mad for each other, doesn't it make you happy your sister is with your best friend?"

Ron ignored her words as he growled, "But she's hardly of age! She's going back to Hogwarts, and now he's going to make her want to stay and have babies or something."

He was getting utterly ridiculous. She knew that the true source of his anger was the jealousy of his best friend and younger sister both having had sex before him. Hermione turned her back to Ron and starting cleaning up the detritus of their meal. She heard him walk towards her and then he grabbed her arm with unnecessary force, pulling her back to face him.

The next kiss was different than the ones on the couch; this one was chaste in comparison and contained something that transcended mere physical affection. He lifted her off her feet, her arms flinging around his broad shoulders and his hands wrapping fully around her slender hips. A plate that had been in her right hand fell to the floor, shattering and scattering tiny shards about the room. This kiss expressed to Hermione that she was the most single important thing to him, and she thought wildly, '_Fuck,_ _I'm in love with you_.' Their lips remained locked for what seemed to be ten minutes before Hermione felt it was necessary to apologize for making him angry.

"I'm sorry for springing that on you, but I sort of thought you should find out from me and sooner rather than later. So you're ok with it?" she asked breathlessly once they had slowly parted.

"I'm not exactly 'ok' with it, but there's nothing I can do about it," he said with finality. "I guess if Ginny's going to be with a bloke, it ought to be Harry, right?"

"Exactly," agreed Hermione. As she said this, they heard the fireplace in the living room let out a loud roar, which could only mean another person had arrived via Floo powder.

"I hoped I'd find you here, are you alright?" Harry asked once he had rounded the corner and found Hermione and Ron in the kitchen and dining area. They were standing in front of the oak table, Ron's hands on Hermione's hips and her arms wrapped around his neck. Both had windswept hair and their clothes appeared to have been rustled about. Harry could spot a love bite on the center of Hermione's neck over where her knife scar usually was. She hastily smoothed out the front of her blouse and did her best to not look at Harry in the eyes.

His mouth twitched into a knowing half-smile as silence filled the room. The couch pillows had been tossed across the living room haphazardly and there were three empty wine bottles on the table, shining in the light of two dripping candles. Whereas before he had always been embarrassed by the blossoming romance between his two best friends, this new relationship with Ginny made Harry want everyone around him to be in love. It was the best feeling in the world and he wished to relish it alongside them.

"I already know about you and Ginny," Ron said pointedly, wiping the smile clean off of Harry's face. Before Harry could retort, he said, "Listen, you've got my blessing or whatever. Just be careful with her, ok? She's going to Hogwarts, so no little speckled gits running around anytime soon."

"Are you drunk?" Harry laughed, noting the obvious slur in his best friend's speech and his overfriendliness when talking about his younger sister.

"A weenie bit," Ron answered truthfully. "Hermione's wine-and-dining me."

"You seemed bothered, mate, I guess the drinks did you good," said Harry as he shot Hermione a thankful look. She returned his smile sheepishly and then turned back to the redhead.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, seizing the opportunity to address what she had noticed when he first got there.

When Ron didn't answer right away, Harry said, "Shacklebolt brought up Fred, started talking about how we needed to make sure people didn't die for nothing. These last Death Eaters can't band together and try another war. It would be a waste of who we lost."

"I think he was just trying to motivate me, I've been kind of nervous about all of this," Ron admitted dejectedly. "I thought maybe I should just go back to Hogwarts, but he insisted he needs me as much as he needs Neville and Harry."

"It's true," Harry said quickly. "You've been with me through almost everything, you are really brilliant, Ron, and you don't give yourself credit."

His ears were bright red, but Ron looked pleased nonetheless. "Thanks, mate."

"It's nothing," Harry said. "Well, I just wanted to check to see if you were alright, you two can carry on…" He made to leave by stepping back towards the fireplace.

"We weren't doing anything," Ron replied indifferently. Hermione felt a flash of anger, but stayed quiet. Ron needed time with his other best friend, and she had already had quite a bit of quality attention from him today.

"So about Ginny," Harry said reluctantly, plopping into the armchair next to the fireplace. He was measuring his words. "Your Mum invited me to lunch tomorrow. Just me, her, and your dad."

Ron let out a low whistle. "It's the talk. She sat me down during sixth year when I was seeing Lavender, it was dreadful."

"You think Ginny told her?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, mothers just know," Hermione said dogmatically. "And Ginny hasn't exactly been hiding it, has she?"

Ginny Weasley, who was always the life and soul of whatever room she was occupying, had taken to dancing around the Burrow, bellowing off-key variations of Celestina Warbeck ballads at the top of her lungs. She volunteered to feed the chickens, degnome the garden, and help her mother with household duties. She always had been very beautiful, but was now accentuating her striking features with hints of rouge, lipstick, and mascara. Any and every spare moment she had was spent at Grimmauld Place with Harry, where they had fucked each other senselessly six wonderful times since her birthday, if you didn't split last Sunday's two hour long session into two. Almost every word out of her mouth involved some notion of Harry Potter, just like how she had been during the summer before her first year. She was emitting a youthful glow that had not graced those around her for months. The contagious joy was starting to help her family fill the void left by Fred.

Molly Weasley immediately took notice of this sudden change in behavior and recognized the symptoms: her dear Ginny, her youngest child and only daughter, was deeply in love. And if she was not mistaken, and her maternal instincts rarely were, Harry and Ginny were now physically expressing their love. The hours at Grimmauld Place had not passed unnoticed, and whenever she returned to the Burrow, Ginny bolted straight for her room and did not emerge for hours afterward. She was hiding something, and it was time to address it before things got out of control. So Molly invited Harry over for lunch on Saturday the twenty-second at one o'clock sharp. Arthur would have the day off from work, so he could sit with them and mediate if it was needed. She was not planning on any other family members to be home, including Ginny, whom Hermione and Ron would be taking out for lunch and to Diagon Alley to be fitted for new Quidditch robes and do a last bit of school shopping.

"Just tell her the truth, she won't be mad," Ron said. "She thinks of you as another son, so she's not going to chase you off or anything."

"I'm more scared of your dad," Harry admitted, gulping. Arthur Weasley was a very kind-natured man, but in the times Harry had seen him angry, he was positively terrifying. Ginny was his little girl and the only female Weasley to be born in generations, so it would not be outside the realm of possibility for a physical confrontation to break out if tempers flared.

"He's the calmer of the two, you know that," Ron reminded Harry as he got to his feet and fetched a full bottle of wine from the cabinet. "He's fond of you, especially because you were raised with Muggles. You and Hermione are his heroes because you might be able to fulfill his life's ambition, to know how airplanes fly." He poured three glasses and handed one to each of them and added, "Nutter." They each sipped thoughtfully, the room dark except for the flickering of the fireplace. Harry refilled and drank three glasses before he broke the silence.

"I'm in love with her," he proclaimed thickly to the two. They stared back at him, Ron's face appraising his best friend but Hermione looked close to tears as she smiled. "I don't want to say goodbye to her in a week."

"We've got to though. I'm going to miss Hermione like something awful, but we're going to be busy," Ron said quietly. "This war isn't over yet, and I haven't finished avenging my brother."

"It isn't," Harry agreed, impassioned by the wine. His green eyes flashed from behind his round spectacles. "But I'm going to make sure it will end finally. If I cross paths with some Death Eaters along the way and have to take a few of the cowards down – all for the better."


	3. Lunch at The Burrow

_**Saturday, August 22**__**nd**__**, 1998**_

The cramped kitchen of The Burrow hosted a number of peculiar sounds on the stifling August Saturday afternoon; the kettle on the stove was emitting a stream of hot steam and screeching, "Ready for tea!" and there was an enchanted old broom brushing dust out of the open back door (and when Mrs. Weasley's back was turned, under the ragged rug under the kitchen table), its thistles sticking out haphazardly. Molly Weasley was smashing red potatoes hastily with her wand, swiping at the pan as though it were a fierce opponent she was trying to take down. While she vigorously mashed with her right hand, her left hand grabbed a full clump of freshly-churned butter and added it to the steaming mass. It felt good to be cooking while she felt so restless. She had arisen at five o'clock sharp that morning, and unable to sleep, she had cleaned the house and yard thoroughly, including Ginny's room while the young witch was at her Apparition exam at nine. During the short time in the small first floor bedroom, Mrs. Weasley had discovered a lacy, thin, red shard of fabric under Ginny's bed that she presumed was underwear. So her suspicions were confirmed.

Although she was very excited about the union of Ginny and Harry, she was feeling protective of her only daughter. Mrs. Weasley had always been accused by her family as being an overprotective mother, but she couldn't help it, especially after the war had wounded and killed her children. Fred was dead, and she had lost her two brothers in the First Wizard War. Of course she would want to protect her loved ones! She was anxious for the lunch with Harry Potter, whom she had always considered as an adopted son. He was a handsome and exemplary young wizard, nobody could disagree with that. Plenty of wizarding families would have welcomed him with open arms if he dated their daughter. Yet he had picked Ginny and the Weasleys, the impoverished, redheaded bunch of blood-traitors. She didn't want to scare the young man off, but she still wanted to be firm with him. All she knew for sure is that she wanted to get two ideas across to him during lunch: firstly, he mustn't interfere with Ginny going back to Hogwarts and any career pursuits after her graduation. Secondly, she wanted to let him know that he was always going to be part of the family, even if the two ended up splitting. If they were indeed soul mates, however, it was all for the better. Molly couldn't think of a boy she would rather be with Ginny than Harry. He might even become her favorite in-law. A side note to all of this was that if he ever did break her heart or did wrong by her, they would of course chose her side over his. If that meant never speaking to him again, regretfully, that was what would have to happen.

A loud crack echoed in the air as Ron and Hermione Apparated alongside each other, holding hands. They had arrived in the sunny backyard of The Burrow, right next to the overgrown garden and patch of wild sunflowers. Mrs. Weasley's face popped in the open kitchen window as she stood tiptoed and called, "Come on in, you two!"

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley, is Ginny ready?" Hermione asked the matriarch once they had entered the back door into the kitchen. "Oooh, that smells really good!"

"Hello, Hermione dear. She's up in her room, I haven't seen her all morning," replied Molly as she magically lowered four dishes on the scrubbed wooden table all at once with a small flick of her wand. "Thank you for taking her to Diagon Alley, I haven't had the time this summer to do any shopping with her."

"It's nothing," Hermione said sincerely, glancing up at the much taller Ron. She elbowed him hard in the ribs. He still hadn't even said hello to his mother. He had dark circles under his eyes and all morning he had been complaining that lights were too bright and noises too loud. Still, a hangover was no excuse to be rude to your mother.

"When can we bring her back?" he asked grumpily.

"Not until three at the earliest, I think," Molly answered. "Now please go get your sister, it's five 'til one!"

An order from his mother was as good as an Imperius Curse, so Ron obediently went up the stairs and knocked on the door marked in shining black letters "GINNY". You could still see the faint outline of where Charlie's name had been blasted off fourteen years before. There was no immediate reply from the young witch, so Hermione rapped on the door more aggressively than the moping Ron had. There was still no answer.

Hermione turned the handle of the door, which was locked. She whispered, "_Alohomora_!" and a tell-tale and oddly satisfying _click_ was heard. She entered the room with Ron close behind her. "Ginny?"

The small room was clean, welcoming and orderly but obviously empty. A piece of stringy red underwear was hanging off the coat hook next to Ginny's twin-size bed.

"Kind of an odd decoration, isn't that?" Ron muttered, spotting it at the same time as Hermione. Before she had a chance to add to this, a loud pop accompanied an Apparation of a figure. Ginny Weasley stood in front of them, panting and sweaty. Her blouse was inside out and her red hair was clinging to her shining face.

"Did Mum know I was gone?" she asked desperately, looking at each of the two in turn.

"What was that?" called Molly from the floor below. Evidently she had heard the loud Apparition.

"I dropped my wand, Mum!" Ginny bellowed back in a convincing tone of exasperation. "We're alright though!"

Mrs. Weasley did not off a reply, so she either bought the lie or simply did not care to pursue it. Explosions were not uncommon in The Burrow – after all, Fred and George had lived there for eighteen years.

Ron was red in the face as he rounded on Ginny, his expression disgusted and angry.

"Ginny, Mum said we've got to be out of here before one, so get ready!" Ron yelled at his younger sister. "Where the bloody hell have you been? Never mind, Hermione and I will wait outside." He pulled out his pocket watch and said, "You have two minutes."

"I'll take all the time I need!" Ginny hollered at his back as he and Hermione left the room.

Two minutes and fourteen seconds later, Ginny reemerged from the room looking fresh, albeit still rifled from the brief spout with Ron. She was wearing a lemonade-colored shift dress that stopped midway down her toned thighs. The collar covered her chest fully, so the entire effect of the garment on Ginny was classy yet cute. Hermione spotted the gap between her friend's legs and thought with savage envy, _'Of course her thighs don't touch.'_

"Ginny, your father needs a new set of quills and Errol is in dire need of medication for his crop infection. You can stop by Gringotts and take money out of the family account. Oh, and you got an owl this morning, from someone named Enid Smeek," Molly Weasley said once the three had entered the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder at her daughter. "Well don't you look lovely?"

"Thanks, Mum. Harry will be here soon?" Ginny tried to sound casual as she picked up the envelope addressed to her off of the table. Its address was from Godric's Hollow. Somehow the name Enid Smeek was familiar, but she couldn't place it. She set it the envelope on the staircase to read later.

"Yes, he will be here any moment," said Molly stiffly. "So you three best be going off."

For the third time that afternoon, a firearm-sounding _crack_ rang out in the air. Ginny knew the weight and gait of the footsteps like the own rhythm of her heartbeats; it was Harry Potter. He strode through the open back door looking nervous, but handsome nonetheless. He was wearing an emerald button-down shirt that brought out his eyes and a new pair of corduroy black trousers. Ginny had dressed him herself and admired the effect on his slender frame. He had attempted to flatten his untidy hair, Ginny could tell from the wetness at the tips of his fringe. His circular glasses were noticeably askew, however, and had fingerprints all over them, and Ginny noted that there was a spring in his step as he entered the home. Ginny fought back the grin that was fighting to take over her face. They had just made love frantically less than ten minutes previously, and here they were, surrounded by her friends and family. It was dirty.

Then there was yet another loud _pop_ as Arthur Weasley Apparated precisely on the top step leading to the back door. His tall, thin frame was silhouetted momentarily in the blazing sunlight. Molly beamed at her husband and scuttled hurriedly across the kitchen floor and past Harry to get to him.

"Hello Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny," Arthur said brightly, looking at each of them in turn as Molly fussed absently with his patched robes. "What are you all doing here?"

So Mr. Weasley did not know what this lunch was about. Harry's stomach lurched nervously. He did not know whether Arthur's surprise and lack of preparation would be advantageous or disadvantageous to the situation.

Molly had chosen not to tell her husband about this special lunch on purpose. She knew he was prone to anger whenever they discussed Ginny and her boyfriends. When the twins had told him about Michael Corner, he had gone to the garage to tinker with his Muggle devices for five straight hours, blasting roaring Muggle rock on his wireless. When he was informed of her tumultuous relationship with Dean Thomas, he had actually punched a hole in the wall of his bedroom. After Harry had dumped Ginny over a year ago, and the young girl was susceptible to sudden bouts of tears, Arthur spoke ill of Harry for the first time in his life. Ron told him about Harry's seventeenth birthday when the two had been snogging in her room, post breakup, and conveniently left out the part that Ginny had initiated it. Because of these reasons, when Arthur said he wanted to go to the Ministry to chip away at his paperwork Saturday morning, she agreed but only requested he return by one. She was convinced that if he didn't have a chance to stew over it, the meeting would run a lot more smoothly.

"We'll see you later," said Hermione, grabbing Ron's arm. "You can Apparate, Ginny?"

"Yes, I have my license," Ginny answered, trying her best not to laugh. "Passed with flying colors on the first try."

"Great!" Hermione said happily, feigning an air of surprise. "We'll meet at the Leaky Cauldron." She turned on the spot with Ron and they Disapparated. Ginny, however, lingered.

"I love him, you know," Ginny said to her parents, her chin set so she strikingly resembled her older brothers Fred and George.

"We are aware of that, dear," Molly said softly. Mr. Weasley, who had been removing his traveling cloak over on the peg by the front door, had frozen on the spot. "We'd just like to have lunch with Harry and perhaps talk a bit."

"It's fine, Ginny," Harry said hastily. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

Ginny stared back at him directly in the eyes for six seconds and tried to send him a ray of reassurance with her gaze. Harry thought for a fleeting moment that she was going to demand to stay, but then she turned on the spot, vanishing with a _pop._

"So it's just the three of us?" Arthur asked brightly after a moment of tense silence. "Well I daresay those mince pies smell delicious, Molly! Oh, and mashed potatoes? There will be plenty to go around and probably leftovers, I can take it to work for lunch on Monday…"

He sat at his spot the head of the table. Harry followed, sitting in a small, chipped, turquoise chair to his left that was usually reserved for Ginny. Instead of sitting at her usual spot on the opposite end of the table, Molly sat across from Harry at Arthur's right side where Bill ate when he visited. The usually full table felt ominously large with just the three of them seated at it.

The trio dished their food out in bated silence. Molly poured boiling water into each of their mugs; the smell that resulted when combined with the aromatic teabags tickled at Harry's nostrils. He wondered vaguely if it was laced with some sort of potion, indeed, the steam was rising up in a tight sort of swirl...

"How have you been, Harry?" Mr. Weasley inquired politely after he had sipped his own tea. "I haven't seen much of you this summer."

"No, sorry, I've been really busy. With Kingsley and his special projects, you know."

'_And frisking our daughter_,' Mrs. Weasley thought bitterly, letting out a snort. Her husband ignored this.

"Ah, yes. He won't tell me exactly what's going on, so I imagine he's instructed you to be discreet?" Arthur asked kindly.

"Yes," said Harry, relieved he didn't have to explain this uncomfortable aspect of his new job. Arthur nodded knowingly, spooning the last of his mashed potatoes in his mouth. Molly had hardly touched her food and was staring at her husband.

"Well the reason I brought Harry here, today, dear, is that we need to discuss his relationship with our Ginny," Molly said suddenly. Harry did not look at her. She already knew, so what was there to say? Ginny and Harry were both adults now, there was nothing her parents could do about them sleeping together.

"They are obviously seeing each other, I thought everyone knew that?" Arthur said, setting down his spoon and fork in one swift movement. "I couldn't be happier for them!"

"Yes, but the relationship has – er—_progressed_," Molly said meaningfully. Arthur's red eyebrows rose an inch, then lowered and knitted together, forming a cluster of wrinkles at the bridge of his nose.

"Is this true, Harry?" he asked softly. Harry wished that Mr. Weasley was yelling at him; the weakness in his voice was far more terrifying.

Harry nodded solemnly, looking down at his clammy hands that were resting in his lap on top of the buttermilk-colored napkin. He concentrated on the purplish stain at the corner of the cloth. Why did this have to be so painful? And why couldn't have Ginny been here? She would have made a joke and lightened the moment. She may have even taken him away from the dreadfully awkward scene.

"Of course, I wish they had saved this for when they are married," interjected Mrs. Weasley. "But it's not the end of the world, there are measures they can take – after all, we didn't wait, Arthur. We eloped right after school but it was after we had already… well, you know."

Her husband's ears tinged red just like Ron's did when he was embarrassed, but he did not speak.

"There are all sorts of spells you can use as contraception," Mrs. Weasley continued conversationally. "Of course different charms come in and out of fashion, but the ones they have nowadays have hardly any symptoms, and you only need to cast them once a month. Fleur uses the good ol' Contrabirth Charm regularly, and she hasn't gotten pregnant, and that's not without a lot of Bill trying! I will help Ginny chose which ones she needs to cast, and I have a book that has one or two spells for you that Arthur used on himself after Ginny was born."

Harry felt extremely hot around the collar. Here he was in the kitchen of The Burrow discussing sex with the two people who were closest to parents he had ever had. The Dursleys hadn't even bothered telling him about the miracle of life so he relied on the crude snippets of information he had gathered in public school and the dirty magazines he had encountered under Dudley's mattress. Molly was being open and casual about the sensitive topic, but Arthur grew quieter and was lowering further in his chair with each passing moment.

"This is a part of life, and I'm happy for the two of you," Molly continued, sounding rehearsed. "But Harry, she has got to finish her last year at Hogwarts. And I know she already she has a promise for a contract with the Holyhead Harpies after graduation. Quidditch teams discourage the distraction of relationships and families with the rookies. It will be a few more years before you two can marry, at the very least."

"I know that," Harry said impatiently. "We know that we are both going to be busy the next year, it's all we can talk about, and so we are ready for it."

"You don't think things are moving a bit too fast?" challenged Mrs. Weasley. "She is head over heels, Harry. Even if you behave yourself, she might want to ditch school and be with you."

"I won't let that happen, I want what's best for her," Harry replied firmly. "I love her."

Arthur sat up suddenly, causing the other two to look at him in alarm. He had not spoken yet, but appeared to be contemplating the best way to express what he had been silently brooding over. Molly clicked her tongue impatiently. Arthur looked to his right at his wife and then cleared his throat loudly, pivoting in his chair to look directly into Harry's eyes.

"Man to man," he said slowly, "you be careful with my daughter. You've hurt her before, and I won't let that happen again."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, wishing he could melt on the spot and disappear from Arthur's angry and stern glare.

"Ron told me that you two were canoodling after you broke up with her last summer. I'm hurt that you would toy with her emotions like that, she was very upset after you ditched her," Arthur muttered. This sparked anger in Harry.

"You know that she's the one who pulled me in her room, right? Made sure we were alone, then started getting all frisky with me. She's been making all the first moves."

"Are you suggesting she's loose?" Arthur barked, his hands clenching furiously. He was on his feet suddenly, so Harry grabbed his wand in his right pocket, but the wooden handle was burning white-hot to the touch. Harry let out a yelp and seized his burned hand, which was swelling and stinging from the curse as though scalded by boiling water. It appeared as though Arthur had projected some accidental magic in the midst of his emotional outburst.

"Boys!" Molly shrieked, casting a Shielding Charm between the two. "Nobody said anything about Ginny being 'loose', there's just been a spot of bad communication…"

"She pursues me! She's been after me since she was eleven years old, so don't blame me for anything that's happened, I never ever want her to be in danger!" Harry couldn't help but shout back at Mr. Weasley as he also rose to his feet. He was visibly shaking with fury and fear. "She can take care of herself, she doesn't need you two breathing down her neck every bloody second."

"You can't deny you're a dangerous boyfriend to have!" Arthur accused, pointing out his index finger as though to jab Harry in the chest but the Shielding Charm still hovered solidly between them. His glasses were threatening to fall off his face as he shouted in loudest possible voice at Harry, "Think of all the times she has almost died trying to help you, you've put her in some deadly situations! She was possessed by that blasted diary because You-Know-Who knew you would want to rescue her, and that was before you were even dating! And when you took her to the Department of Mysteries when she was only fourteen? She could have suffered so much worse than a broken ankle! And even though You-Know-Who is out of the picture, the Death Eaters you're after can still use her as bait or blackmail. Don't think I haven't thought about this. I can't have anything like that happening to my little girl."

He had said aloud what Harry had been worried about himself ever since Shacklebolt had proposed the job: the Death Eaters could use anything they knew about Harry's personal life against him, and surely Ginny would be at the top of that list. Their relationship was a secret to nobody, he was sure that most of the magical world knew about the youths' steamy affair. _The Daily Prophet_ had posted a picture on its cover shortly after the Battle, showing him cheering and hugging his friends and kissing Ginny passionately for anyone who may happen to glance at the photo. He didn't have a subscription to _Witch Weekly_ but he was willing to bet his left nut that there had been gossip columns dedicated to discussing the affair.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm not the ideal person for your daughter," Harry pleaded. "But she's the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I already feel like a part of the family so this will all work out. Just trust me. Please." The last word came out rather pathetic, but he had accomplished in calming Arthur down somewhat. The two men now realized that this argument had broken out because they both yearned for Ginny's safety and happiness. They cared enough about her to yell at each other and get into a brawl if it had been necessary. They were in this together, after all. Sensing a resolution to the row, Molly withdrew her protective charm and Mr. Weasley held out his left hand. Harry flinched, but he just wanted to shake hands. Harry extended his uninjured one.

"So it's settled, we'll make an Unbreakable Vow that you won't break her heart," Arthur said, nodding decidedly.

"What?" Harry blurted.

"I'm only joking," Arthur chuckled. "Well, mostly."

Molly Weasley looked between the two men then burst into tears. She hugged them both to her, squeezing them with surprising strength for her size. Even though Harry's hand was scorched and there had been a teensy exchange of heated words, she thought the lunch had gone almost without a hitch. She bumbled over to the small cabinet of potions she kept in the kitchen for minor injuries. She had half a tube of orange paste that healed burns, which she squeezed an ample amount from onto Harry's injured hand. It instantly stopped stinging and after a few moments the swelling had also subsided from underneath the tight bandage Mrs. Weasley had adhered to his hand. Arthur apologized profusely, saying he hadn't meant to do it, but Harry insisted it was nothing. He was immensely grateful that this was the worst thing that had happened to him.

Without warning, Ron, Hermione and Ginny Apparated in the backyard. The girls were talking animatedly about the new Quidditch robes Ginny had purchased and clambered up to the house loudly.

"It's only one-thirty!" Molly scolded, wiping her orange fingers on her apron. "You can't be done already!"

"We tried to take her to lunch but she's not hungry," Ron shot back agitatedly. "And Quality Quidditch Supplies already had new robes that fit her; they just had to do a couple of alterations."

"There were hardly any lines at the shops and it wasn't crowded for a Saturday," Hermione remarked apologetically.

"I have your quills, Dad, and here's the medicine for Errol," said Ginny, placing each of the items in her father's hands. She pecked Harry on the cheek and asked eagerly, "How was lunch?"

"It was fine," Molly said, brushing some dirt off of Ginny's skirt. "So you passed your Apparition test this morning, Ginny? And after only one try too, that's incredible! I can't believe my youngest is Apparating now…" her voice trailed off as she burst into a fresh set of tears.

"Oh, Mum!" Ginny sighed, hugging her mother gently. "I haven't even left home yet and you're already getting upset."

"You're living with me forever, I thought we decided on that!" Molly sobbed, turning away from all of them to clean up lunch. Harry made to join her, but she held out an arm in front of him. "You don't need to help, Harry, your hand needs to heal. You can go be with them if you'd like."

"Do you all want to come over?" Harry asked, turning back to the three. They all nodded.

After they had Disapparated, Arthur turned to his wife and said happily, "Well I think that that went quite well, don't you?"

After spending the afternoon playing wizarding chess and Exploding Snap, Ron and Hermione finally left Harry and Ginny alone. Harry had been hinting for the past hour that he was tired and fancied a nap, but they had not caught on he wanted them to leave him alone with his lover.

Harry was sitting on a squishy armchair facing the fireplace in the drawing room. Ginny was curled in his lap, her head on his shoulder and his arm draped over her legs close to her bare knees. His fingers on still-bandaged hand were tucked underneath her skirt ever so slightly.

"So Ron and Hermione are finally dating," Ginny said incredulously. Hermione had told the both of them during their last game of Exploding Snap. Both seemed sheepish about it, especially Ron, but also content.

"Finally is right," remarked Harry. "I'm happy for them though."

"Me too," Ginny sighed. "I know they have their differences, but opposites attract, right? Wouldn't it just be perfect if we all ended up married and she was my sister-in-law? And you and Ron would actually be brothers!"

"I don't want you to leave in nine days," Harry said sadly, steering the topic from his two best friends. "These past few months have been amazing."

"I'll write you constantly," Ginny comforted. They had been sharing this exact mantra of words repeatedly for the past few days. She pulled off his glasses and kissed him tenderly. "Did it really go alright at my parents'?"

"It was fine. Your parents really care about you, Ginny," Harry said quietly. He felt a burning affection for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. For all the trouble he had brought the family over the years, they were being better to him than he deserved. "But you have to go back to school and work your butt off to get on that Quidditch team. You're an amazing Chaser, I think you've got a good shot at making the team."

"I thought you were fond of my arse?" Ginny asked playfully. She lifted her knees so that her already-short skirt rode up a few inches. Harry glanced down and noticed with a skyward leap of his heart that she had ditched her underwear at some point during the afternoon. He could see where her delicious ass cheeks met her thighs, and the elusive crevice they created between her legs. His fingers danced to between her legs and he slipped two in her folds. She was already wet.

"Mmmm," she moaned as he started rubbing her clitoris in pressured, circular movements. She had shown him what she liked and he was getting damn good at it. She bit at his neck as he played with her. He was silent as he concentrated. Then he thrust the two fingers inside of her, curling them towards himself as if beckoning her to come forward. She cried as he jabbed them into her forcefully, the juicy sounds of her moisture sloshing in the air. Specks of her lubrication hit Harry in the face where he was now sitting in front of the armchair. Her legs were spread wide, receiving his fingers with painful ecstasy.

He lifted the yellow dress above her hips and he brushed her pubic hair with the tip of his nose. She shivered. His head had never been done there; there was something so sacrilegious about the sight of his jet black hair between her pale, freckled legs. His breath felt cool and tingling on her exposed flesh. He grabbed her upper thighs and descended, licking the rim of the entrance to her uterus. The cry that escaped her lips encouraged him to move further up and start licking and sucking at the tiny bud of flesh that caused her so much stimulation. He crushed his tongue against it, pushing it roughly as the liquid from her pussy wetted his chin.

Just her whines were enough to make his penis stiffen. After her cries started to calm down and subside, he stood up and unbuttoned his black trousers. He put his glasses back on so he would be able to see her. He was about to enter her, but she turned around in the chair, her back arched and her butt lifted so that he could see her clenched, pink asshole peaking at him. He had no desire to venture into that kind of sex anytime soon, so he grabbed his cock and guided it to her pussy. The way she was curving her back made for an irresistible angle – the head of his throbbing dick crushed against the front wall of her womb. He clenched the tops of her round buttocks as he rammed into her in a steady, consistent rhythm. Her dress had scrunched into a sort of sash around her middle. She was still wearing her white braided sandals; one clattered to the floor off of its owner's curling toes with the power of Harry's lovemaking. She clutched the top of the armchair, her knuckles white and her cries muffled as her face slammed into the back of the chair with each forceful thrust. His balls slapped against her clitoris as he rode her; they felt soft and utterly delicious. She wished she could see what he was doing to her. The way he was moving felt unbelievable, she was sure it looked even better.

But then she felt something wrong; his penis had grown slack and he was still trying to make love to her as if nothing was wrong. But she could sense his discomfort, so she pushed him away gently and turned to look at him.

"It's been a long day, love," she crooned, her face shining with perspiration. "We already did it this afternoon and then you had lunch with my parents…"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks crimson. "I don't know why it's not working for me. You're bloody sexy, Ginny."

"I'm going to spend the night," she said, stepping off the armchair onto the floor.

"That's not a good idea," Harry said, feeling a prickle in the palm of his right hand that had been injured by Mr. Weasley earlier. "You can come over first thing tomorrow."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. She pulled the top part of her lemonade dress over her breasts and pulled the skirt down, brushing out the wrinkles as she did so. "_Accio underwear,"_ she chanted, and her flowery bloomers zoomed from under the couch cushion.

Harry circled her with his arms. He still felt incredibly embarrassed at his unforeseen spell of impotence. She smiled up at him reassuringly, her face so close to his that he count every last freckle. "Harry, sex isn't everything to me. Even if your penis got cursed clean off, I would still love you. We'd just have to buy a strap-on or something."

Harry rolled his eyes but she was being such a good sport. He kissed her gently on the forehead, not peeling his lips away immediately. Her skin was cool and moist from sweat and was exuding that same Ginny smell he had detected in the Amortentia from Slughorn's Potions class in his sixth year. The smell had been the first concrete evidence that his brotherly feelings for Ginny had given up to romantic longings. All the time he had spent with her at The Burrow in the summer of 1996 made Harry fall hopelessly in love with her. Now that they had been fucking, this love was stronger than it ever had been.

"Bye, Harry," she said after a moment. She squeezed his hand, then let go and Disapparated.

Harry plopped back down in the slightly damp armchair they had been fucking in only minutes before. For all the events that had taken place today, things had turned out alright. Now the Weasleys knew he was having sex with their daughter, and they still cared about him and wished for him to be a part of their large family. He contemplated happily about all the years ahead of him and fell asleep in the drawing room, his dreams drifting to a happy picnic scene with Ginny in which he was more than able to complete the deed.

_**Author's Note: No, the tea wasn't spiked. Harry was just being paranoid. It might have been a good idea for Molly to sneak some Calming Solution into Arthur's tea though, right? As for the abrupt end to the love scene between Harry and Ginny, I only wished to portray a realistic relationship. I also wanted to emphasize that the fiery passion between Harry and Ginny goes much deeper than physicality. I have loosely drafted the remaining sixteen chapters, so keep an eye out for updates!**_


End file.
